


History

by The58thAcademic



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Pole Dancing, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Gets a Hug, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid's Tragic Backstory, Stripping, creepy unsub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The58thAcademic/pseuds/The58thAcademic
Summary: Team gets called to Las Vegas to solve a case involving the deaths of young Vegas dancers. It hits a little to close to home for Spencer, and he ends up getting himself into a precarious situation. (How Spencer Reid paid the rent)
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotcher, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii, I'm back with another sad Reid story where I make his backstory as tragic as possible. This could exist in the same universe as my other work but I think Reid would've mentioned it in his rant if it did. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The team had been rushed out on a case so quick they hadn’t had time to read the case files, and all they knew was that they were going to Las Vegas to investigate a series of murders involving prostitutes. The plane was filled with a serious silence as everyone hurried to get up to speed, which meant no one could tell that Reid was panicking in the back of the plane. 

Reid had never told the team much about his life as a teenager. Yes, they knew about the unnaturally fast pace he matriculated, and about his father's departure, and even about his mother's illness. But there were still things he had never told them. He wasn’t sure that they hadn’t already figured it out- there had to be some questions about how he got by as a child, but none had been voiced to him. It just so happened that this case was so intertwined with his past that he knew they would find out by the end of their trip. So, rather risking them finding out from someone else, he decided to bite the bullet and divulge the information he knew. 

“Uh guys?”, he called hesitantly into the silence. “I have some information that could be useful.” 

Morgan whistled, causing Reid to blush. 

“Damn kid, already solved this one, did you? That’s got to be one of your fastest yet.” 

Running his hands through his hair nervously, he replied hastily “No no, nothing like that, I just think I have something that might help us.” 

“Share with the class then Reid,” said Hotch, looking up briefly from his file. 

“Right,” Reid stood, and started walking over to the rest of the team. He turned to page three in the folder and turned it around so the team could see. The photos on the page were of the two men and two women as they were found, half covered by underbrush in Lorenzi park. “The notes say that the site where they found the bodies probably wasn’t the initial attacking place? Well, I agree; see the shoes on victim no.1? There’s no mud or leaves that would be common from someone picking up from the park, and they aren’t worn enough to be someone walking the streets, it’s the same on victims 2, 3, and 4 too. The lack of wear suggests that they might be strippers. And the contents of the third victims' purse, the tampons with the strings cut off? That solidifies the stripper angle.” 

“So, what are we thinking, he picks them up when they come off stage, takes them somewhere then dumps them here?” Emily said, narrowing her eyes at the photos. 

Reid took the seat across from her and pulled out a map of Las Vegas from his satchel. The team converged to watch him point out various areas, and he started to explain again. 

“No, I actually think he kills them at their workplace, then takes them out through the back and into the park. It would be easy to play them off as workers that have had one too many and are going home with a client to earn a little extra.” 

“But there’s got to be thousands of dancers who fit his victimology, this guy isn’t picky, hell he fluctuates between men and women. He's killed two in the past week alone, before that it was a month between victims.” 

Rossi had cut him off mid-spiel, and once he was done, he started back up again. 

“There’s roughly 20,000 dancers in Vegas”, at that Rossi and Hotch shared an amused glance that was ignored by Spencer, “but that’s not the point. Strangulation? That method makes it personal, and bruises like that aren’t hard to find on entertainers in these establishments.” 

“These establishments? Pretty boy you think you’ve already got the place these people worked at down? The local police asked around, no one would talk, what makes you think that you’ve got the right place?” 

“The police wouldn’t have had to ask around if they knew what they were looking for. You see here?” He pointed at a black star tattoo on the shoulder blade of all the victims, “This signifies the club they worked at- the Black Star. That club is only five minutes away from the borders of the park, the unsub wouldn’t even need a car to get his victims out of there.” 

He marked out the club on the map, as well as the places where the bodies had been found. 

“So, what do we know so far?” Hotch asked the team. 

“Our unsub is powerful enough to subdue a victim by himself, and he’s smart, he knows any self-respecting Vegas entertainer wouldn’t take a drink offered by a client.” 

“He also looks rich enough to have access through the back doors of the club, owners don’t let just anyone keep their anonymity in a place like this.” 

“He’s probably a businessman, has a history of hiring and firing female assistants regularly, and has suffered some sort of romantical trauma recently, which caused him to start killing.” 

“Morgan call Garcia and ask if she has anything on the club that Reid mentioned, see if she can get a number and a time for a statement.” 

“On it Hotch.” 

Morgan turned away to make the phone call, and he knew it was now or never. 

“This club is notorious for being uncooperative with the police, let me call instead.” Spencer had closed his eyes, waiting for the onslaught of questions and incredulous laughter. 

“Kid, why would you think they’d listen to you?” Morgan asked, a bemused smile on his face. 

The rest of the team looked confused, but Rossi was staring at his as though he already knew his secret. Considering his profiling skills, Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if he had figured it out already. Rossi had been more attentive recently, and Reid had always been told that he was an open book. 

Reid opened his eyes and stared Morgan down. A look of dawning realisation crossed his face, and Reid decided to say it before he asked anymore questions. He stood up and walked to the back of the plane to avoid seeing their reactions. 

“I worked there as a teenager. May I make the phone call?” 

He asked whilst digging around his go-bag for his personal phone. He didn’t want to see the looks of disgust on their faces when they realised what he meant. When he straightened back up, he could see the understanding and pity in their expressions. It caused a copper like taste to build in his mouth, and a burning sensation to form in his eyes. 

“Reid what do you mean, you worked there? And as a teenager?” Emily asked, tilting her head slightly. 

“Exactly that. My mother couldn’t get a job, my father was absent, no one wanted to hire a twelve-year-old. I challenged people to poker at first, but then people knew better than to play with me and I was banned from most clubs on the strip. I started on the streets, and was approached by a scout for the Black Star. Working there was safer than on the street, and it meant that I didn’t have to touch people as much. I don’t like talking about it, so if I could just make that phone call?” 

Thankfully, no one asked any other questions, and Hotch nodded his head in affirmation, so he ducked behind the refreshments curtain to get away from the prying eyes. He needed the sense of security that the separation brought.


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer Reid had become incredibly good at compartmentalisation, very early on in his life. He probably wouldn’t have made it this far if he hadn’t- between the constant bullying that followed him from kindergarten to his work and the very real abandonment issues that had developed into very real trust issues, it was a wonder he hadn’t already given up. He had a lot of practise in putting things aside to deal with later (which he often interpreted as never), but apparently this time his brain hadn’t got the memo. 

As soon as the curtain had been pulled back across, he was falling to the floor with his back to the cabinet. He could barely hear when the team was shaken out of their shocked silence and started talking again, what with his hyperventilating breath filling the air as loud as if he were screaming or shouting, and his skin is crawling and _no, no, this was_ _separate,_ _and he’d left it behind and no one on the team was supposed to know-_

Rationally, Spencer knew he was having a panic attack. He knew that he was supposed to stick his head between his knees, monitor his breathing, count what he could see and smell and hear and taste and touch. But he could barely move for the pain of oxygen forcing its way up his throat, his eyes were glazed over from the unfallen tears, and just like always, there was no one there who’s breathing he could copy until his body could remember to do so by itself. 

So, in some strange sort of trance- driven by the skills imbued into him as a young boy- he pulled himself up off the floor, and stabled himself against the countertop he had been cowering against only minutes before and took some breaths so deep he made himself cough. 

Fumbling around the shelves, he pulled out a glass and filled it with tap water and took a sip. He tested his voice, pulled out his phone, and inputted the number. 

Before he had time to start the call, the sounds of arguing weaved their way through the curtains. 

“-Hotch man, you saw him, making him take this call in front of us will not help in the slightest- it’ll ruin our chances of getting him to talk to us!” 

“Morgan, I understand your reluctance to confront him about this, but this is what’s best for the case, and that takes priority-” 

Spencer let out a shuddering breath, steeling himself for the third unwanted conversation that day, and drew back the curtains. 

The team were in the same places as earlier, except Morgan was standing over Hotch and Emily, both of whom were staring back with unfazed expressions. Rossi was standing next to Morgan, a hand on his bicep, presumably trying to dissuade him from something. 

“I’ll take the call in front of you,” Spencer called out. “As long as you promise not to look at me any differently.” 

All heads turned his way, and he tried not to cringe at the sudden attention. Rossi took a few steps in his direction. 

“Kid you know you don’t have to do this. We can get Morgan to do it instead, you just say the word.” 

Spencer walked towards the table the others were sat around and placed his phone on the surface before sitting down. Rossi and Hotch shared a worried glance; they knew what Reid looked like after a panic attack, no matter how good he was at hiding them. 

“Rossi, I’m fine, see?” He dragged a hand through his hair and flashed them a wide grin. To someone who didn’t know him, it would probably have fooled them, but the team? No, they could see the strain hidden in his smile, and the emptiness in his eyes. It was a horrific throwback to the vacant expressions from when he was suffering from his dilaudid addiction. To the untrained eye, the only sign of his nervousness was the incessant tapping of his finger against the wood grain of the table. 

The team were not fooled. But they knew Reid. And they knew that confronting him about it would only make it worse, so Hotch met his eyes with a tight smile. 

“Ready?” 

He replied by clicking the call button. He steadied himself by closing his eyes, and let a dopey smile spread across his face, preparing himself for the role he was about to play. It was picked up by a bored sounding woman, who obviously had no qualms about scaring customers away. 

“This is the Black Star, best club on the Vegas strip, how can I help you?” 

“Destiny? Omigod, honey its Penny, remember? I had no idea you still worked here!” 

Once she knew who speaking, the woman immediately perked up. 

“Penny? It’s so good to hear from you, but what are you doing calling? Mama said you’d gotten a new job?” 

“I got time off, I was calling to check in, warn you before I come and see you!” 

The team shared a look of astonishment. How on earth did their genius with an IQ of 187 and who rambled about the mathematical accuracies of star trek become this flirt with a trilling voice who sounded like the target audience for Keeping Up with the Kardashians? 

“Speaking of, would you put me on with Mama? I’d really love to speak to her.” 

The smile he had worn to help get into character had long since dropped off, and the contrast between the bright, bubbly voice, and his completely blank face was unsettling. 

“Yah of course babe, you know she loves to hear from you, I’ll put you through now, it might be a while cause she’s in a meeting.” At this she gave a high-pitched giggle, as if there was an inside joke. Reid seemed to get it, giving a half-hearted smile. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you Pen, I’ve missed you!” 

The girl made a kissing noise at the microphone and transferred them, which had Emily turning to Morgan with raised eyebrows, whilst tranquil hold music played from the phone. 

“Fuck,” Spencer swore, looking down and seeing his hands clenched in fists so hard his nails drew blood. “This is the hard part.” 

He stretched his hands out and closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing- it would do him no good to fail now, and he needed to feel in control. The fact they had no way of knowing how long they would have to wait before being taken off hold had put the whole team on edge. 

A click startled his eyes open again, and a husky voice trailing through the phone. 

“Penny? Is that you?” 

“Yes Ma’am, it’s me.” 

“What on earth are you doing calling me? Thought you had a fancy job up at the FBI, putting those doctorates to good use?” 

The woman’s voice was curious, if not amused. 

“Well, that’s just it Ma’am,” Spencer gulped, and steeled himself for the next line. He knew the club’s rule for dealing with law enforcement, and just had to hope that she would be more inclined to help him than the others. “I have reason to believe that the club is involved in one of our cases. I was hoping you would be able to answer a few questions for us?” 

He crossed his fingers for good luck. 

“The dead dancers yeah? I could make some time for you. I don’t have anything planned for the next day or so. But you owe me already, I might just have to cash in on that debt. With all my dancers going missing, I need someone centre stage on Friday night, and none of the girls I have are ready for that.” 

Tears prickled behind his eyes, and he made sure to keep his gaze on the phone in front of him. He knew that the others would be outraged by him agreeing to this, but he knew Mama better than they did, and she would just as easily rescind her offer. 

“Just Friday?” He asked with a wavering voice. So much for staying in control. 

“Just Friday. You can have your old mirror back and everything. I’ll even let your team come along to watch.” Her tone was silky smooth and sickly sweet now. The team could tell by the change in her voice that she knew she had already won. 

“Deal.” 

“I’ll be seeing you in two days then Dr Reid.” 

Her use of his full title felt like a slap in the face. 

Spencer knew that this was a bad idea. She had seemed too happy at the prospect of having him back, even after ten years away, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Plus, there was the added embarrassment of what the deal entailed. He never wanted the team to know about his previous job, and now they would be watching him pole dance? Any respect they had for him would be gone by the end of this case. 

“Look at it this way, at least I got us the interview. And we know that the dancers go missing on a Friday because they have all been found by runners on Saturday mornings and the coroner put all their deaths at roughly 8 hours earlier, so we’ve also gotten surveillance on the club on the night the victims go missing.” 

He was trying to put a positive spin on the situation, but he could tell it wasn’t working. He couldn’t look any of them in the eyes. 

Rossi cleared his throat and started delegating jobs for the others to do on arrival. Morgan clapped him on the shoulder and Emily gave him a sad little smile as they went past. The group had soon dispersed, leaving only Spencer and Hotch sitting in the same seats as earlier. 

“Reid,” Hotch called. 

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up. The wood grain had suddenly become very fascinating. 

“You did a good job,” Although his face didn’t change, Spencer could see his eyes soften slightly as he realised just what he was sacrificing for the case. 

“Thanks Hotch,” He replied, his throat horse from holding back sobs that wanted the force their way up. 

He took that as his time to leave, and once he was gone Spencer started tracing the patterns with a finger, hoping to distract himself from what was to come. 


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived in Vegas late Wednesday night. They delegated rooms- of which there was thankfully enough to not have to share. After the phone call no one had confronted him about his previous job, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. A room to himself meant that he could wallow in some well-deserved self-pity and distract himself from his problems by reciting The Iliad from memory. 

Sensing his reluctance to divulge more information, the team left him alone for the evening. The same couldn’t be said for the next morning. 

Spencer knew he would have to share everything about the club, its workers, and its owners, so on the way to the station, he compiled a list in his head. The list had all the necessary details about the club, without exposing too much about his role there. He knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of choosing what information he shared, but it was nice to think he did, even if it was only for a little while. 

That nice thought was promptly shattered once the team had been settled in the conference room put aside for them by the local officers. Reid was setting up his maps to make a geographical profile so that explanations for the local police department would be easier and was (just like the day before) avoiding the eyes of his teammates. 

Unfortunately, pinning a map to an evidence board didn’t take nearly as much time as he had hoped, and once he turned and saw the others sat around the table, staring at him, he knew that the time had come. He wondered whether the windows were reinforced glass, or if they could be broken by a 174 lb man. 

Emily spoke up first. 

“Reid, we need to ask you some questions before you go undercover.” 

Despite knowing it was coming, he still panicked. But what were a few questions? He could do questions, right? He’d done it before when Gideon had found out and when his college professors asked how he funded his education and when- 

“Reid.” 

This time it was Morgan who spoke, and Spencer flushed when he realised it was because he had been saying that out loud. It caused him to halt in his tracks and ignoring the worried eyes of Hotch and Rossi- they had been worried a lot recently, he wondered why- he gathered himself together enough to stumble over to one of the spare seats at the table. 

“Right. Questions. What do you want to know?” 

He cringed internally. He knew what they wanted to know, and they knew that he knew what they wanted to know. 

“Anything you know about the club. Owners, workers, regulars. The layout, any details about the work that goes on there. Once we have everything, we’ll sort through what might be relevant.” 

Hotch jumped in, ever pragmatic. Taking a deep breath, Spencer braced himself, before starting to speak. 

“The owner is 65-year-old Judith North, known as Mama to her employees. She bought the club outright in 1983, using money from her third divorce. It works primarily as a strip club, but she brought in some extra money by smuggling drugs for local gangs between 1998 and 2001. When I worked there the bouncer was her son, Jeremy North, who should be 31 this November. He had a few failed business ventures in the early 2000’s, and last I heard he was attempting to break into the security market. He liked to string the new workers along- seduce them by promising a raise, give them presents. Caused more than a few arguments backstage. He was a bit handsy with the male dancers but nothing out of the ordinary for this type of place, and nothing to be concerned about. The regular barman should still be her younger son, James North, 29. He's been working there since he was 21, never had much luck with school, but is a bleeding heart if I ever saw one. The people who work behind the bar are usually people he picks up off the street and let's stay above the club for a few days. Seemed like he actually cared about the well-being of the workers too- giving out water, sharing tips-” 

He let all of this out in what appeared to be one breath. 

“Jesus kid give yourself some space to breath,” Morgan interrupted incredulously. Usually watching Spencer ramble was amusing. He would talk and talk about the most obscure topics, and unless it interfered with work no one would interrupt him. He would fall into lecture mode, voice slightly faster than usual, but speaking with more surety than he did around strangers. They were mainly glad that he had found a space in which he felt comfortable, and that he trusted them enough to share his enthusiasm with them without fearing dismissal or retribution. The best thing about his random info dumping was the passion that was visible within his figure. His eyes would shine with interest and his hands would stop their incessant fiddling. In this case, it looked like he was trying to expel all the information as he could, in as little time as possible, showing as little emotion as a rock.   
Spencer shot him a thankful glance and took a few breaths before carrying on, slowly this time. 

“Basically, her sons were complete opposites. James was the one who recruited me actually. I said he got most of the bar staff, but he recruited some dancers too. Those took a bit more effort to get, you have to be a bit more specific, standard-wise. Drug addicts are a no-go, so are seasoned prostitutes. You need to get someone who is new to the scene but has been out long enough to know the benefits of working from a building rather than a street corner. You look for someone desperate. I was perfect.” 

The mood turned somber as he spoke. So far, Reid’s voice had remained steady, matter of fact and disconnected. By the time he finished explaining the parameters for the recruitment of dancers, his voice was bitter, and the words left his mouth as if spat. Despite it having been almost 6 years since he worked there, the memories were still fresh, and recounting knowledge from his time there left him with a bad taste in his mouth. When left with a bad taste in your mouth, you have two options- swallowing it down, or spitting it up. After having chosen the former for so long, it was almost refreshing to have the option of choosing the latter. 

The team remained silent, seemingly knowing that he would prefer to do this all in one go rather than keep coming back to it. 

“Because of the strange recruitment methods, there isn’t really a way of finding out who works there. Everyone is paid off books, makes it easier to protect yourself from solicitation of a minor charges when the police come knocking. I couldn’t tell you who still works there, or whether any of the regulars I had still frequent the place. I doubt they would though, it was more the kind of club people would go to only a few times before trying to strike it from memory. Primarily, it’s a strip club. You have the main area, with the large stage here,” At this point, Reid pulled out a piece of paper, and started sketching the layout of the building from memory. “and booths around the walls, with smaller platforms nearby. The general rule is to not touch the dancers on the stage unless they initiate it, but there isn’t really anyone who enforces it. Usually, there is always someone on the main stage, and the platforms are if people want someone specific, or some more attention. The rest of us give lap dances or take people through to private rooms down here.” 

The paper had a basic sketch of the club- the main stage facing the bar, the backstage dressing rooms, and the private rooms down a corridor off to the left of the bar. The corridor led to the back exit, presumably where the Unsub entered from. 

Reid had tried to keep his explanation of what went on in the club simple, but he knew it wouldn’t last. They’d be seeing it first-hand tomorrow evening anyway. 

“And what happens in the private rooms Spencer?” 

Out of all the people to ask, Rossi would've been his last guess. He lifted his head from where he was concentrating on labelling the diagram and met Rossi’s eyes. 

“Some people are willing to pay extra for some special treatment, and some people are desperate enough that they’re willing to take part.” 


End file.
